The Winding Down
by Bjanik
Summary: This is an Epilogue to The Left Hand of Odin, the release of some sexual tension


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy or anybody in it. But I hope to let them have a bit of fun.

**A/N: This is an Epilogue to The Left Hand of Odin. A bit of smut for those who wanted it.  
**

Vincent tilted back in one of the kitchen chairs, the back two legs creaking as they accepted his weight. Pale, bare feet rested on the adjacent chair as he sipped his coffee: steaming, black, and blissfully bitter.

"Vincent! You're going to crack your head open. Or wreck my chair." Tifa walked into the kitchen behind him and cuffed him lightly on the back of the head. Vincent righted the chair, hiding his bare feet from view.

"Oh!" Tifa said, delighted. "You did the dishes! You must be feeling better."

"Quite. Thank-you."

Tifa looked around her spotless kitchen. He hadn't only done dishes; he had scrubbed and cleaned countertops, the stove, the backsplash and even the bit of sticky grime that was always on the cabinet knobs. He was a far better housekeeper than Cloud ever thought of being. The warm, comforting smell of coffee filled the room and she poured herself a cup from the freshly made pot. For a moment she stared into the dark liquid, the light from the kitchen window making a bright, reflective mark surface.

"How long are you staying?" she asked. She knew what his answer would be, at least approximately. That hadn't stopped her from having little quiet fantasies of everybody together, living and working side by side. Maybe building another house next door, getting Cid to open a repair shop, maybe adding a grocery… enough work for everyone, plus some extra kids…

"Another day. Two maybe. Is it all right?"

"Of course," Tifa answered, her little fantasy shattered. "Where will you go?"

"Not sure." Vincent sipped, feeling comfortable. Too comfortable.

Tifa nodded, resisting the urge to sigh. Of course a piece of her fantasy had already departed. Erik, along with his adorable little boy- the little boy Denzel and Marlene had taken to so quickly- Erik had asked Cid to bring him up to Kalm where he had a second cousin who might help him get a job. He said he couldn't face going back to Bifröst after what had happened, after what he had done. Tifa wondered if he would regret that decision someday. Hometowns didn't just grow on trees.

"Hey." Seri came in, tousling a piece of Vincent's hair into his face.

"OK, that's got to stop," he said, pushing back a piece that slid smoothly through his fingers. He had been using Tifa's conditioner for the past few days and the months of abuse from harsh soaps had melted away, leaving layers of long, black silk that was all the more likely to fly into his face for its clean smoothness. Since the team had learned that touching Vincent's head didn't evoke his startle reflex it had become a positive game, and not just with the girls. Cid had flicked him in the back of the head twice.

"But you've been so helpless the last few days," Seri said, grabbing coffee for herself.

"And adorable," Tifa added.

Vincent grunted, proof that some of his old orneriness was returning. He had been sleeping quite a lot since their return from Midgar, since Chaos had exhausted himself and Vincent with the monstrous effort of rubble digging. His dreams during all this sleeping hadn't been exactly good, Vincent supposed they never would be, but they had been relatively... tame. Overall the last three days had been warm and sweet. But now that his strength and energy had returned he was beginning to feel restless. He longed to be on the road, as did his demons. They were wild things, full of primal energy, and he felt the need to burn some of that energy off as well as occupy his own mind. He needed movement. They all needed movement.

"And what about you Seri? Heading back to school?" Tifa asked.

Seri shook her head.

"No?" Tifa asked as both she and Vincent leaned in, interested.

"I think I'll take some time off. My thesis is kind of defunct now, unless I want to try to explain what was the result of my data readings from Bifröst. Besides," she turned her coffee cup around in her hands, "the last week has got me thinking about what's really important in life, and in the world. I think I want to go home for awhile. See my uncle. Make some peace with what my country has become. How it's changed."

"That's a long road from here to Maritee," Vincent said. "Dangerous, especially since the ShinRa express line quit running across the Westlands."

"I know. It was rough when I made it to Mied, and I hear it's worse now. But I expect there's some traffic here and there; I can hitch some rides, maybe chocobo some. It would really help if I could take a little spare ammo?"

_**Remember, your promise, you promised, a step- **_Chaos interrupted, but Vincent was already ahead of him.

"How about some company as well?" Vincent asked, feeling all four of his demons prick with interest.

"You mean some tall, dark, bad-ass company?" Seri laughed. "Yeah, that would be even better than ammo."

Vincent leaned back in his chair again, noticed an accusing look from Tifa, and put all four legs back to the floor. "I've never been to Maritee. Wutai, yes, but not Maritee."

"Maritee is way prettier than Wutai."

"Says who?" Yuffie came in, scowling.

"Just the predilection of the native," Seri said.

Yuffie looked at her, frowned, decided she didn't need to know what 'predilection' meant, and grabbed a soda from the refrigerator.

"You're leaving, aren't you Vinnie?" the girl demanded.

Vincent merely raised an eyebrow at her.

"I can tell." Yuffie sat in a kitchen chair and pulled her knees up in front of herself. "Why do you have to go?"

"I have… obligations," Vincent said, remembering his bargain with Chaos.

_**You bet you do.**_

"You're going with _her_, aren't you?" Yuffie said, gesturing with her soda at Seri. "She's not even pretty."

"Yuffie!" Tifa objected, her face horror stricken.

"What, I can't help it if I blurt out the truth! I got that Tourette's thing."

"You're going to apologize!" Tifa hissed, pointing one authoritative finger at the girl.

"Will not." Yuffie stood up and stomped out of the kitchen.

"I'm so sorry," Tifa said, "She doesn't have Tourette's, but I think sometimes there is something wrong with her brain."

Vincent eyed Seri anxiously. She was unperturbed, but it wasn't only because of her uber-calm Mariteean heritage. Chaos was talking to her.

_**Don't you believe a word of it, dear.**_

_She's actually quite pretty, _Vincent thought_, just different than the East Continent, Midgar/ShinRa-centric standardsd that has infected Wutai royalty like Yuffie. Seri's not *white*._

_**I agree, she's very Mariteean, and quite lovely**_

Seri blinked once in surprise, and Vincent blinked back. Chaos had shared his last comment with her, and since she couldn't hear Vincent it amounted to only half a conversation. But that half was enough for her to know that he and Chaos were discussing her in some way. Vincent winced and turned his head in embarrassment.

"It's alright," Seri said. "She's quite fond of you, you know." Seri gave Vincent a small kick under the table, and he grunted a response. "Maybe you should go talk to her."

Tifa's face brightened at the idea. "Would you, Vincent? She was so upset last time you left, especially since you left without…" Tifa trailed off, afraid of offending. To another man she'd have had no mercy against such a fault as rudeness, but she had a strange soft spot for the pained and reticent gunman.

"…since I left without saying goodbye," Vincent finished for her. He sighed and stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. He walked slowly out of the kitchen like a man to the gallows.

He found Yuffie in a small alcove used for the kids' play area. She was seated on the beat-up toy chest, her arms crossed on the window sill. Her chin rested on her forearm and her nose almost touched the glass as she stared outside at things she probably didn't see. Vincent picked his way through the toys of various sizes and states of destruction that were strewn about the floor and stood behind her.

"Hey."

"What do you want, Vampire?"

Vincent sat on the chest beside her and Yuffie scooted over to make room for him. Inside his demons shuffled around, jockeying for position as each tried to interpret what specifically was going on outside of their world. They always did this- got stirred up when he got close to another person. It was disconcerting and one of the things that made him keep his distance from other humans.

"I want to apologize," he said "For last time, when I left without saying goodbye."

Yuffie snorted. "You think I care?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, so OK, it's pretty sucky, after all we went through, all the stuff we did, you just take off and don't say a thing to anyone. You're an ass."

"Yup."

Yuffie rolled her eyes. It was hard to fight with a guy who wouldn't fight back. She threw her arms around his neck, felt him stiffen as he did EVERY time she touched him.

"I missed you," she mumbled into his hair. "And now you're leaving again."

"I'll be back."

"When?" Yuffie said, defiant and glowered.

"I don't know. But I will. I can feel it, can't you?"

"Gawd, what are you now, a fortune teller? You are such a weirdo! I don't even know why we hang out with you!" Yuffie got up and quickly left the small room.

Vincent smiled slightly to himself. He had seen the impending emotion in her face, the hint of wetness in her eyes, and rather than cry in front of him Yuffie had done as she always did, covered with bravado and insults. But it occurred to Vincent that it didn't much matter if you covered or not when you were with people who knew you well enough to see through such facades. He looked around the messy room and inhaled deeply the smell of Tifa's house. He had spoken the truth. He would come back here.

Ccccccc

"Are you sure you have everything you need?" Tifa was fretting, needlessly so. She had already loaded Vincent and Seri up with sandwiches, cookies, spare socks, and extra ammo. The two travelers had replenished the rest of their travel gear themselves, mostly from the small thrift store that Edge had only recently become developed enough to support. Some repair stitching had been required, and Seri had been amused to see everyone on the team, even Barrett, was handy with a needle. This group had spent some serious time out in the field, and while they didn't much speak of it, she gathered they had done something significant involving ShinRa and the meteor. Something necessary. Something heartbreaking.

"You didn't have to re-stock the bar, Vincent," Tifa said.

Vincent shrugged. Tifa hadn't let him repay her for food, drinks, ammunition, or hospitality. So he had accompanied Cid and Erik to Kalm and made a little side trip. Cid's reaction at the liquor store checkout counter had been amusing, as usual.

"_Fuck, Vince? Where do always come up with funds?"_

"_Does it matter?"_

"_Shit, I guess not." Cid hoisted a smooth brown bottle with a purple label from the considerable collection they had amassed on the counter. "Holy holy, Junon brandy? You always did have expensive tastes."_

"_It's for you."_

_Cid had motioned to the girl working behind the counter "Two of these suckers. Please."_

"We'll be fine," Vincent assured Tifa. She hugged him, then Seri, and he exchanged a manly handshake and with Cloud and Barret. He was a little disturbed that Yuffie was nowhere to be seen; here he was, suffering through the actual goodbye for which she had previously castigated him for not doing, and she was missing it.

"Let's roll," Vincent said softly to Cid, and gave Seri a small friendly but urgent shove into Cid's truck.

"Vinnie!"

Vincent steeled himself for the inevitable as small ninja girl ran out of the back door and collided with him.

"I got you something!" Yuffie said, in a whisper too loud to actually be private. She shoved a small object into Vincent's hand.

He glanced down and opened his hand a bit and something green glinted back at him through a loosely woven cover. He looked up at her, astonished. The materia thief had _given_ him a piece of materia.

"The cover has a strap on it, so you can pin it into your pocket. You know, so nobody can pickpocket you."

Vincent nodded wisely, managing not to laugh. She hugged him again and he tried, sort-of, to hug back.

"Bye Seri!" Yuffie yelled with a curt wave, and then ran back into the house.

Vincent stepped into the truck and shut the door, bumping shoulders with Seri as they were three across in the front seat. Seri was suppressing a chuckle.

"She doesn't much care for me," Seri said. Vincent made a non-committal sound.

"She likes you," She said.

Vincent sighed and leaned his head back against the headrest as Cid pulled away from Seventh Heaven, away from Edge, away from the closest thing to a family that he knew. But he was _moving._ The world raced by out his window as Cid skirted around the Midgar ruins at his usual breakneck speed, and with every mile Vincent's nerves calmed, the halo of the emotionally charged goodbye faded, and restless demons started to doze.

Ccccccccccccccccccccc

After Vincent and Seri left, a strange quiet blanketed Seventh Heaven. Strange because neither Vincent nor Seri were particularly noisy people, and Cloud marveled that their absence could be felt in a way that at least seemed audible. Well, Cid was noisy, and he had gone as well, but Cloud figured that it wasn't the lack of audio input that caused the uncomfortable atmosphere. It was the simple, sudden absence of human presence. Yuffie solved her discomfort by taking the kids to some loud, inane movie. Tifa took to reading in the living room, and Cloud sat in the kitchen alone, swirling his orange juice. He took a sip and drummed both his feet on the floor. An idea had taken up in his mind in the past few days, an obsession, really. It was all because of Vincent and his stupid sleep spells. Those few moments when he had held Tifa, when she was completely under the sleep spell… he had felt free in those few moments, free of his anxiety. He had felt the twinge, unencumbered by judgment, or even observation. Those few moments had blossomed into a repetitive fantasy that wouldn't let him loose. And there was Tifa, he could just see a sliver of her from where he sat in the kitchen. Her legs were curled up under her on the couch, her nose in a book. It was a paperback romance, and the way she had been unable to tear herself away from it Cloud guessed it was pure smut. Literary porn. And there she was, just reading, and breathing, her cleavage, plenty of it visible in her scoop neck T, rising up and down. His hand went almost unconsciously to his groin, pressing against the stiffness there. His cock was hard, and wonderful. If only he could keep it, if only it wouldn't deflate as soon as Tifa so much as looked his way. His hand moved away from his enticing erection to the orb in his pocket, his fingers rolling the thing to and fro.

"Sleep," he said softly almost to himself. In the same instant Tifa's head fell softly against the back of the sofa and the book tipped out of her hand. Cloud's mouth fell open, surprised to have hit her with the spell all the way from the kitchen. In his excited state he must have projected more strongly than he intended to. But since she was already asleep…

Cloud moved slowly into the living room, carefully monitoring his body's condition. So far so good. He reached out and gently straightened Tifa's head to a less kink-inducing angle, letting his hand stroke her silken hair. He sat down next to her, then wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against himself. She moved in her sleep, nuzzling against him. He moved his hand back to his groin, even though he already knew he was hard as a rock. He didn't do it to check; he did it because it felt good, sooo goood.

And what was the harm? Tifa was asleep, and the kids wouldn't be back for another hour. He flipped the button on his jeans and it let loose with a small pop. He had to tug at his fly, the tightness of the denim binding the zipper. But once undone he lifted his hips, and with a wiggle powered by his muscular thighs he managed to make enough space in his jeans to push the waistband of his boxers down and pull his heated cock out and up to lie against his muscle-ridged abdomen. He gave a strong squeeze and groaned softly. A voluminous drop of pre-cum slid onto his index finger and he spread the hot fluid over his taut, mushroom head. Another drop eased from the slotted tip and he spread that around as well, appreciating, not for the first time, that he had always produced a fantastic amount of the warning drizzle. He squeezed and pulled up, watching the head disappear into his hand. By the next stroke his eyes had moved to Tifa's face, her soft lips barely parted, and before he knew what he was doing he had leant in to touch his lips to her's. It was a light kiss, what would have been a chaste kiss except he was masturbating while doing it. Something buried deep in his brain suggested there might be something wrong with the whole scene, but it was faint in the face of his desire, like the muffled sound of a TV in an adjacent hotel room. He pulled and stroked himself faster, gripping hard, finding more pre-ejaculate available to spread around. He moaned, louder this time, his eyes falling on the tops of the sleeping girl's rounded breasts. His free hand found its way there and pushed aside the thin T-shirt fabric and stiffer bra cup to expose one pink nipple. It stiffened under the pads of his fingers and he slid his whole hand over her breast. There was too much breast to encapsulate in one hand, and he longed to bury his face, and his cock, between the two beautifully rounded mounds. He pulled and squeezed himself, faster, harder, his other hand now roving over both of Tifa's breasts until his breath became ragged. Heat flashed into his face, reddening his pale complexion as his hips jerked and he spurted the whitish fluid onto this stomach and shirt. For a few moments he was simply still, breathing. Then with a groan he collected himself and rearranged Tifa's shirt. He pulled his own shirt off and wiped his stomach with it, then slunk to the hallway, where he peered at her from around a corner.

"Revive," he said softly, and when he saw her head move he retreated up the stairs to his room. He went slowly, his face neutral and step even, the hero of the planet unable to be physically rattled no matter how shaken or ashamed he was.

Cccccccccccc

Outside of Edge Cid's truck tore along on the highway, a road in pretty good condition all things considered. Vincent stared out the window, enjoying the current peace the vehicle's motion was inducing. Gigas was already asleep, and Galian was catnapping. Or dognapping, kittynapping, whatever. Hellmasker was alert, but quiet and concentrating so that he could see along with Vincent as best he could out the window. And Chaos? Vincent wasn't quite sure what Chaos was doing. He was also quiet, like he was also trying to sense, maybe to feel the physical world through his currently limp wings.

Seri moved next to him and Vincent felt an electrifying jolt along his left side and knew that was exactly what Chaos had been doing, and charging up his own skin nerves as a result.

"Half a gil for your thoughts," Seri said, her head bumping close to his ear as the truck bumped along.

"They're only worth half a gil?"

"It's about all I've got left. I sent the rest to Mrs. Kocher, who rented me the flat in Bifröst, to ship my equipment back to Mied."

He didn't bother asking how she was planning to make it across two continents on half a gil. There were always ways.

"They used to grow wheat in these plains," Vincent said, looking back out the window. "Before the reactor poisoned the area."

"Not wishing the fucking machine had worked, are ya Vince?" Cid asked.

"No." Vincent ran his knuckles along the cool, smooth surface of the glass. "There's some wheat coming in now. Some seeds must have survived, dormant."

"Really, where?" Seri leaned across him to peer out his window, and where she brushed his cloak he got another of those jolts. Not unpleasant, but unwanted and distracting.

_Flow_ he tried to remind himself, rather than reprimand Chaos for creating this state.

"The tall, pale green grasses with the gold foxtails," Vincent said.

"Oh… that's wheat! We only grow rice."

Vincent nodded.

"Could you eat it? The wheat, I mean raw like that, if you had to?"

"You mean if you happen to be cutting cross country on only half a gil? Sure. Soak it. Sprout it. But better to brew it."

Cid guffawed. "I didn't take you for a brewmaster, Turk."

"I can make any alcohol known to man. It's my only true talent."

That made both his companions laugh, but in a little, somber way. They both knew that Vincent's actual true talents centered around killing people. And maybe brooding.

"OK, smartass," Seri said, "whisky."

"An easy one. Cracked malt and water. Cook it, strain it, cool it, add yeast. Let it ferment. Then distill; you only need a pot still, like the type Tifa is using to make the absionne."

"Shouldn't it lay around in some wooden barrel or something?" Cid asked.

"Desirable, if you can wait for it. Oak only. Make sure it's properly dried."

"OK," Cid rubbed his jaw. "Brandy. Junon brandy."

Vincent tsked his tongue once. "Brandy is no problem but _Junon_ brandy is special. First we have to break into the Arthur and Sons facility in Junon, to find out which twenty-five wine mixture they're starting with. Plus they don't age in oak. They use something else. Something secret."

Something told Cid Vincent knew what the something secret was. But the gunman had gone silent.

"OK, you sonofabitch, give, what is the secret wood?"

"Almer."

Cid almost spit out his cigarette at the thought. "Almer wood? It's fucking toxic!"

Vincent nodded, smiling a tiny bit to himself. Cid stared straight ahead at the road, obviously thinking about his two prized bottles of Junon Brandy that Vincent had given him."

"Alcohol is toxic," Seri pointed out.

"Well, yeah, hell, but it's OK in small enough doses."

"The Almer compound is also mostly harmless in a very small dose. But it gives Junon Brandy that extra kick you like."

"Kick in the ass," Cid agreed.

They talked along in this way, quizzing Vincent on his bizarrely extensive alcohol knowledge, relating alcohol stories, trading drunken stories, being surprised that Vincent had more than a few and downright shocked that he shared some of them. Scenery flew by, Cid slowing only for the small towns that the degrading highway bisected. In these towns quiet faces stared at the monstrous, unusual truck with its oversized bumpers and frame reinforcements, probably wondering what such a truck could be used for. The third time they slowed down it was to approach Dreschre, the little port town on the Traverse Peninsula, the end of where the truck could take them. From there Vincent and Seri would look for passage to Costa del Sol. Cid pulled into a fueling station across from the shipyard, and as they all hopped out Seri took the hose from the pump with one hand and twisted off the gas cap with the other.

"Got it," Vincent and Cid said at the same time, both stepping towards the small, rough building that held snacks, drinks, and the despair of a dead end gas station attendant job. The two men looked at each other, wondering if it was worth an argument.

"Please," Vincent said. "I owe you."

Cid slid his cigarette to the other side of his mouth, then nodded and went back to check the truck's tires.

"I guess this is it then," Seri said, gazing out into the dirty bustle of the shipyard.

"Mmmm," Cid grunted, applying a small gauge to a tire valve. Then he squinted up at her and smiled suddenly, cigarette dangling. "Another day, another fight. Another giadamn good-bye."

Vincent returned to them, a freshening sea breeze blowing his black locks into his face. Seri smiled at him because she noticed his red cape was billowing as well, but not passively with the wind. It was more lifting out to catch the breeze, playing with it.

"You have everything you need?" Vincent asked Cid.

"Yup, you?"

Vincent nodded. Another man would have expected a handshake, but gratefully Cid knew him well enough to skip it. There was no danger of an extended good-bye; besides, Cid wanted to get back to Midgar early. Something about a hot date.

Cid gave Seri a brusque hug, more the type a man might give another man, and in a moment was back in the driver's seat, tearing away from them in a shower of gravel. They stood for a moment in the emotional vacuum created by his departure.

"You OK?" Seri asked.

Vincent nodded. He did feel OK, although a bit strange. He had been practicing the whole "let the demons flow" thing. It allowed them all to be closer to the surface, more in contact with the physical world around him and it seemed they pestered him less because of it. But it also represented less control, a bit of surrender that he was naturally uncomfortable with. Small demon traits kept asserting themselves without his asking for them. His cape would surprise him with a move on its own. His vision would shift a little into the infrared, or suddenly go to black and white. His sense of smell would sharpen for a moment, then return to normal.

_Flow_ he reminded himself, and cast his attention around at the activity. Business looked to have picked up in the last year, since he had been here last. Then it had been shortly after Meteor, and the whole planet had been thrown into an economic depression that had stunted shipping and travel. Today there were several midsized ships, some taking passengers, and a car ferry. Two big container ships were being loaded in the distance, and airships, small and large, were periodically going overhead.

"Sailing's cheaper," Seri commented, as they looked between the two shipyards, air and sea.

"But so slow, and tedious," Vincent said. "You had to cross this body of water on your way to school. Did you sail?"

"No, I, uh, slipped the baggage attendant a twenty and he turned a blind eye while I jumped in the cargo area.

A sly, thin curve played on Vincent's lips. "Now that," he said, "is the least expensive way to go. Also the least traceable."

They headed at a brisk pace to where the airships were loading and watched the cargo handlers from behind the chain link fence.

"Got a favorite?" Vincent asked.

"The young slacker with bedhead on the cargo carrier, slip number four."

Vincent shook his head.

"What? He'll totally go for it."

"For a single woman, yes. Young men are fine for that. And if we were a family we could play on sympathy from one of the more middle-aged guys. But to get _me_ on board…we need something special. That one-" Vincent gestured, "on number two."

Seri watched a rather ordinary looking worker on the number two dock loading passenger luggage. The luggage train had already gone, and he was alone with the remainder of his pile, tossing pieces into the cargo door. Every so often he would step inside, presumably to shuffle the load around. He would reemerge, look around, then straighten his jacket oddly. Seri frowned at the scene.

"Is he stealing stuff from the luggage?" she asked.

"He's a little bigger every time he comes out," Vincent said, amusement creeping into this voice. They walked sideways along the fence, scanning the area.

"They have security cameras now," Seri observed.

"Yes, a few. But none where they don't expect people to be able to be."

The fence they were following ended and was replaced by a a building wall , a wall to one of the hangars, forty feet high. Once on the far side of the wall, out of view of the shipyard, Vincent spread Chaos' wings, grabbed onto Seri's waist, and launched them both to the roof. Chaos grinned and winked at her mischievously before Vincent's more sedate form reasserted itself with an eye roll. They crossed the roof in a half-crouch. At the edge they squatted and peered into the yard. Vincent took a glace at Seri's outfit – all grays and browns- quite drab, and on her small form those clothes would blend well into the dirty buildings and worn pavement. He on the other hand had no such luck. He was red, or blue, or huge… but always weird.

He scooted along near the edge of the roof, crouching low with Seri following, until they had an area below them that was shadowed, a corner where wind eddies had collected old papers and coffee cups on the ground.

"I'm going to drop us down here. Wait until I've secured passage, then come over as discreetly as you can."

Seri nodded. With one more winged transformation they were both down, and Vincent was gone. Seri saw him move off, but it was so _fast_ that her brain had trouble accepting it. He was kind of a red blur, and then he was over by the airship, tucked deep into the shadows. She saw the luggage attendant get sucked into Vincent's shadowed world, then the back of the man stiffened. Vincent had probably called him on his game; let him know he had been seen. By the time Seri made a quick dash to the airship Vincent was shooing her inside, and then jumped in himself. The hatch clanged shut right after them.

The pitch black was immediately banished by the small green glow of materia that Vincent had at the ready, remembering Seri's problem with complete darkness.

"Did you pay him, or just threaten him?" Seri asked.

"Both. A man only threatened feels resentful. One paid feels grateful, but maybe greedy. One exposed to both is the best bound to your cause."

"Push and pull," Seri said.

"Push and pull."

She watched Vincent as he applied some small tools to the flush-mount light on the curved wall near the door. Soon the light came on, casting a yellow glow over them and the mounds of suitcases and boxes.

"These lights normally go off when the door shuts," Vincent said. "How did you ever make the trip before, with your phobia?"

"I wasn't alone. It was a huge cargo ship, and there was this whole family of migrant workers in there. They were so friendly; they had little lanterns and played cards and music. They even cooked over these tiny stoves and fed me dinner.

Vincent smiled at the image, but thought it was lucky they didn't blow the whole ship out of the air.

"Well," he said, shuffling some suitcases around to make a chair. "I can't make dinner. I can offer you…" he dug through a pocket, "a snack bar."

She laughed and took the offering, a Tifa-made snack wrapped in a crinkly paper. She unwrapped the smushed goodie and gave half back to Vincent.

"Cozy," she said, taking in their small space and finding some quasi-soft luggage to sit on.

The airship rumbled and the engines whined to a higher and higher pitch. Then quite suddenly their stomachs dropped as the ship lurched upward with a roar.

"I forgot how loud it is!" Seri yelled.

Vincent frowned at her and shook his head, pointing at his ear.

"I SAID I FORGOT- ah hell." Seri got up and moved next to Vincent, thinking she just didn't have the kind of voice needed to pierce the din. She opened her mouth, a bout to say some lame comment like 'It's so noisy!' but it was just not worth the effort.

"Hi," she said at normal volume, but also using her 'head voice'.

_**Hello,**_Chaos said back. _**He can read lips, you know.**_

"Is that so?" Seri asked, making sure her face, and thus lips, faced Vincent. He raised his eyebrows in the picture of innocence of which she suspected he had none of.

_**He just wanted you over here**_

Seri studied Vincent's face. Surely he hadn't heard that, because surely he would have evinced some discomfort, or denial, or… something.

_**He always hears me**_

She studied Vincent's face again; it was still completely neutral.

"You're maddening," she said, and caught what she thought was a smirk before Vincent reclined onto the pile of irregular shaped luggage.

Seri reclined as well, wondering as something dug into her back if the paid passengers above them were any more comfortable. She squirmed over the offending protuberance, arching her back to reach under herself. Vincent's eyes flicked over her undulating torso in a most un-Vincent like way, a glance Seri noticed, along with the fact that his eyes were not strictly his normal blood-red glow. A hint of gold was threading through them. She wondered about this, and as often happened when she wondered about Vincent (which was frequent) she inadvertently sent those thoughts to Chaos. Which were then apparently shared with Vincent.

"We're practicing flowing," Vincent said, only Seri didn't actually hear him over the engines. She saw his lips move, connected with his eyes, but heard Chaos speaking the simultaneously in her head.

"How's that going?" she asked.

"It's new. It's… tricky. But maybe less tiring for us both."

"And the others?"

"Keeping track of one is enough for me at the moment."

_**It's good for us all.**_

Seri smiled at the annoyed look on Vincent's face. Vincent had heard Chaos, and was as usual questioning the truthfulness of the statement. Odin's powerful ex-general had a distinctly mischievous streak.

"I swear I'm sitting on a set of lawn darts," Seri said moving the softsided suitcase from under her butt and selecting another. The new selection clanked like a broken dishes. "What in the planet's name do people put in these things."

"That one is full of porcelain doll-heads, to be sold on the black market. To Midgets." Vincent wiggled around, as though he were feeling the contents under himself. "This one is full of-" He was about to make another facetious guess, like maybe it was full of porcupines or something, but he stood up abruptly because his butt was actually wet. He gave a sniff.

"Green chile," he said. "You can't get it on the Western Continent, and visitors to South Melina go nuts for it. They freeze it and take it home with them. Or try."

He moved the melting, sopping suitcase off to the side and selected another, and for a good ten minutes they speculated on the contents of various luggage and what the owners must be like. Seri was surprised to find Vincent so enticed by the game, but then on second thought he was probably doing this all the time. Turks were the ShinRa information gatherers, the spies, the stealth killers. Evaluating people, noticing details about them… his brain was probably turned on to that all the time.

Seri re-stowed the last little strange bag they had been discussing and plopped down on their makeshift couch, and pulled her canvas jacket tighter around herself .

"I forgot how cold it was in the cargo area," she said, teeth just starting to chatter. She crossed her arms and started bouncing up and down in a small, rapid motion.

"It's the altitude, plus the constant airflow past the ship's skin sucks the heat right out of it. Luckily I brought my own heater."

Seri looked at him, anticipating another magical materia thing that he might light up. But he remained perfectly still as his cloak lifted behind him and stretched out, stretched towards her.

"Oh," she said simply, and scooted cautiously towards them.

_I'm going to twitch, she's going to touch me and I'm going to twitch…_

_**I can help with that. Keep me close, let me be part of your skin. Flow. **_

_Flow._

Vincent reached out one arm as Seri neared. Her back touched the inside of his forearm. The feeling was smooth, a gentle feeling on his skin. Her knee touched his and her hand slipped behind his back, under Chaos' wings. So far OK. He breathed slowly, trying to not break the delicate balance that allowed this. Her torso came into contact with his, and he felt not just smoothness this time, but a small shiver. Gaia, it had been so long since he had felt anything like this without also feeling fear, suspicion, and panic. Shame. Chaos closed his wings, cocooning them both, pressing the length of bodies next to one another. Vincent let his head fall back against an abused cardboard shipping box and Seri leaned her head onto his shoulder, the bridge of her nose pressing into the curve of his neck.

"Warm," Seri said, as her body gave one final shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.

Cccccccccccccccc

Later that evening Tifa found Cloud in the garage, packing. She leaned close, eyeing what Cloud was putting into his saddlebags. Clothes. Gear. Food.

"What are you doing? Do you have a job?" She asked, her voice threadbare with concern. Cloud had been conspicuously absent all afternoon and had missed dinner. Now here it was, dark, bedtime really, and he was not just packing to leave, but dressed to leave as well.

She picked up a small book from the packing pile on the nearby workbench. It was full of photos. The kids. Yuffie, Cid. Her. Cloud gently took the small book from her and tucked it into a side pocket. Rain hit the garage door, its steady drumming a strangely lonely sound.

"I have to go," he said softly, looking down to avoid her eyes, down further to avoid the drape over curves of the oversized shirt that she slept in, the dimples on her kneecaps, and her toned, smooth calves. That left him with her bunny slippers, and he looked away from those too, from their smiling, happy faces.

"For how long? Cloud?"

He finally looked up into her large, pleading eyes. She blinked and lovely, dark lashes moved and flashed over her clear, burgundy irises. Her face was bathed in concern and trust and Cloud's stomach clenched. This was his friend, someone who had treated him with nothing but respect and kindness, and what had he done? Molested her. Lied and betrayed and disappointed. Some hero. And he knew he couldn't leave like this; he owed her better. He owed her honesty.

"I can't stay Tifa. I did… something." Here he choked a little. He swallowed, battling his old nemesis of speech. "This afternoon, while you were… napping on the couch… I touched you." He exhaled slowly. It wasn't a complete confession; there was still a lie in there. Two lies, actually, things that he had done and hadn't told. One he had to tell, the other maybe he could keep to himself.

"And you weren't napping. I sleep spelled you. I'm so sorry. I'm not well."

Cloud's heart raced as he waited for her to yell, or punch him. Or worse, just turn her back on him and go back into the house, and the last memory he would have of her was her complete and deserved rejection.

"Why?" she asked, her face a jumble of unreadable emotions.

Cloud shifted his feet, the soles of his boots grinding loud in his ears against the garage floor.

"I love you," Cloud said at last. "But I'm so broken, in my head… I can't be… normal."

He was breathing hard now, bile rising in the base of his throat, and would have given his Tsurugi just to leave now, to end this horrible, wrenching, conversation.

"But it's OK when I'm asleep?" Tifa asked, as if they were discussing some sort of normal issue regarding logistics or household supplies.

"Yeah, somehow, yeah."

"Cloud," she said softly, "I don't think you can throw a sleep spell from the kitchen all the way across the living room."

Now Cloud finally looked up and blinked at her, his face cherry red. He wasn't sure, but it seemed like she was implying that she had been… awake? So she also knew the other thing he had done while he held her? New embarrassment flooded his already burdened senses.

"Come on," she said, taking one of his hands and pulling. It was several seconds before he actually moved, following her woodenly back through the house and up the stairs. The kids were already in bed, and they walked quietly past their door. Tifa led him not to her room but to his own, bare now that his few personal things had been removed to his bike.

"Sit down," Tifa said, motioning to his neatly made twin bed and shutting his door.

"I can't…" Saliva caught in his throat, and he swallowed, barely managing not to cough. He sat.

"Shhh." Tifa sat next to him. "Let's just take a little nap. At least wait for the weather to clear."

She leaned over and laid her head in Cloud's lap, curling her body a little and nuzzling her face into his thighs. Several minutes passed in this way, the house silent except for the sound of gentle, constant rain. Eventually Cloud began to wonder if Tifa had actually gone to sleep, as preposterous as that sounded. He knew she couldn't have. It was just pretending, and part of his brain resisted the ruse even thought he knew that the point was that he _should_ pretend. And the illusion was a good one, her body was still, her breathing slow and soothing. He let himself sink into the illusion.

_Asleep, asleep, _he told himself. His hand stroked her hair, her beautiful, smooth cascade of chestnut hair, and his shoulders relaxed as his head fell gently against the wall behind him. And then it happened. He felt a slight movement of skin against skin as his finicky organ filled and lengthened. His travel pants stretched tight with the new pressure and Tifa sleepily shifted her head, her cheek rubbing him through the fabric. Cloud sighed and moved his hand from Tifa's hair to her shoulder, then toyed with the collar on her nightshirt. Lightly he slid his fingertips along her collarbone, then straight down between her cleavage. He kept his eyes half-closed, as if he too were sleepy, and Tifa moved her head again, keeping that delicious pressure on his groin, which pulsed with the encouragement.

"Yes," he whispered, soft enough not to break the spell. He ran his hand over one rounded breast, full and weighty with skin so soft it might have been warm water. He pinched one erect nipple gently between two fingers. Tifa gasped and panic threatened him, but when he looked down at her face her eyes were still closed.

_Asleep, she's still asleep_ he told himself, repeating the mantra even though he knew it wasn't true. He stroked her hair, face, and neck as he unbuttoned her nightshirt down to the navel. Tifa rolled slightly, arching up to where the fabric fell away to expose her toned torso to his view. Cloud lifted his hips and wiggled, popping open his fly and pulling himself free much as had that morning. Slowly, eyes only half open, Tifa rolled again until her lips just touched the velvety skin of his glans, circling the very tip. Cloud froze, just feeling the sensation of warm and _wet, _then gasped as Tifa's tongue gently pressed into the slotted opening. He lifted his hips again to push his pants and boxers down farther, so that one of Tifa's slim hands could slide around his tight, rounded testicles. Cloud shuddered, a tiny smile coming to his parted lips. There was no losing his erection this time. His cock throbbed, becoming even harder as her smooth hands cupped his sack and her mouth opened to take in his entire length. She had come up on hands and knees now, and Cloud slowly pulled her nightshirt up along her back, gathering it under his palm until the hem crept over the round globes of her bended backside. She had no panties on, and Cloud's mouth fell open at the sight of her beautiful, tight cheeks. Who would have guessed Tifa slept with no panties? Cloud's mind reeled at the thought, realizing that he maybe hadn't been letting his imagination work hard enough for him.

He pushed up a little as Tifa's warm, wet mouth took him all the way down to the back of her throat. She sucked upward and released him with a small pop.

"'s good," Cloud slurred.

Tifa laughed a little and shirked off her nightshirt without pulling herself fully out of position. Cloud chanced to do the same with his own shirt, and was gratified (not to mention encouraged) to catch her giving his chest a hungry and approving glance. His cock was fully hard now, painfully so, leaking precum. He could chance a little more delay. He reached down and untied his boots as quickly as he could, which was not quick at all as his hands had suddenly become as clumsy as a chocobo chick. But he did get his boots off, socks too, and soon able to match her state of nudity.

"You're sooo hot," Tifa said when they finally pressed their whole bodies, naked, skin-to-skin from head-to-foot against one another as they lay on the small bed. "I don't suppose you have any condoms handy?"

"I did," Cloud winced. "I threw them out. With the garage trash, that went out this evening." _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ Cloud thought to himself. The damn things had sat in his nightstand drawer all year with no danger of seeing action, and now this.

"S'okay," Tifa said, putting her lips on his, their heat distracting him, her taste reviving the softening that threatened his groin. "We can wait for that. Let me do some more of …_this_."

Eagerness was clear in the glint in her warm, liquid eyes and Cloud's much neglected soldier filled to almost bursting. Tifa licked the underside of his cock, now lying firm against his abdomen. Hot saliva covered the head and then he was engulfed once again in hot and wet. He moaned, sitting up so he could put his hands on her. She was naked now, naked naked naked and he let his hands roam at will. They roamed around her waist, and along her flat belly until fingertips tangled in the soft curls of her pubic hair. He could barely keep track of what he was doing, the blowjob Tifa was giving him felt so amazing. The girl had got some practice somewhere, another thing he hadn't dared to imagine about Tifa.

He slipped his fingers down into her pubic thatch until he felt incredible heat. He shuddered; she was so wet, she must have been juicing the whole time she was 'pretending' to sleep. He wet two of his fingers in her fluid and pulled them upwards, sliding between her labial lips to cover and stimulate the small nub. Tifa paused in her work to gasp, making a small, surprised, noise.

Cloud smiled to himself; he hadn't much sexual experience before being captured into Hojo's lab of horrors and having his brain and libido turned into tossed salad. He'd always been too shy. But Zack had left some very particular memories in his head along with his general identity. In fact the litany of sexual tactics had for some reason been some of the strongest memories, and Cloud had kept those, nice and tight, because frankly Zack had been some sort of sexual artist. Cloud moved his fingers, pushing, swirling, even pinching lightly and tugging upward, until he found the right movement, the one that caused Tifa to lose her mind. She shuddered and he hummed a little in satisfaction. Now it was she who could barely pay attention to what she was doing, but she managed to redouble her efforts anyway. She sucked and bobbed while he stroked, both barely able to breathe, both of them trembling on the cusp. Cloud was holding back, barely, drawing on that conviction that a good man waits. But Tifa had no training or compunction to do such a thing. She writhed, her screams muffled by a mouthful of penis, and the vibrations pushed Cloud into release, which she swallowed whole even as she bucked in her own ecstasy.

In the calm that soon blanketed them both they slowly separated, Tifa giving one last swipe of her tongue on Cloud's shrinking erection. Cloud brought one finger to his mouth and gently sucked Tifa's fluids from his finger, a mischievous smile on his finely shaped lips that caused Tifa to open hers in surprise and excitement at the implication of such tastes. Cloud almost laughed, the Zack vault providing him with a hundred such ways he could tease her. But right now… he wanted to hold her, finally hold her in this most intimate way.

"So… Cloud…" Tifa began, her face nuzzled into his neck, "what do you think about staying awhile? See how things go?"

She lifted her eyes to look at him, ostensibly cautious, demure, but Cloud knew her curtailed smile meant different. She already knew the answer.

"See how it goes," he agreed, thinking about what time Edge Drug opened in the morning so he could get condoms. The front door opened and closed, keys clattered onto the counter and Yuffie's light steps went down the hall to the guest room she was using. Cloud and Tifa smiled at one another, satisfied and actually sleepy at last.

Ccccccccccccccccccc

"We've started the descent," Vincent said, Seri hearing only Chaos' voice over the engines which had almost impossibly ramped up in volume.

Seri was sorry the trip was over even though she had known it was just a short hop to Costa by air. She stretched, her body moving against Vincent's, Chaos' wings moving against her. Then the ship gave an alarming drop downwards and the warm red wings were suddenly gone, fanned out as if to save them from the fall even though they were sealed inside the cargo area of an airship. Although, Seri thought, the thin wall of the airship probably wouldn't present much barrier to the likes of Chaos should he feel the need to be suddenly OUT.

_Shhh_ Vincent intoned, _just an air bump_.

_**I hate these absurd machines.**_

The ship continued to descend, giving another two or three big drops before the engine sound changed again and something solid bumped underneath them.

"Welcome to Costa del Sol," Vincent said once the engine noise had died down.

They waited until the hatch opened and a man in coveralls stepped in, not seeing them at all simply because he didn't look to either side of the door where the pair lurked tight against the wall. As soon as he was in, attempting to pick up the soggy green chile package, they slipped out behind him, barely catching a glance from another worker as they joined the line of regular passengers disembarking.

It was night now, and the building lights glared against the black sky. They passed through the terminal building and stepped out to the salty breeze of the Costa del Sol night. The airship port was on an elevated plateau overlooking the main tourist strip.

"Last time I was here the whole area was lit up," Seri said, referring to the conspicuous dark holes in the view below.

"A lot of Midgar people used to come here. Before Meteor."

They walked toward the lights, bypassing cabs and the little vans that called themselves "limos" for the fancier hotels. It wasn't more than a mile to the start of the strip, and mostly downhill, hardly cause for a ride when leg stretching was so welcome. Of course, on the other hand, they had no luggage. No fifteen suitcases of evening dress clothes, hair dryers, sun lotions, and especially, an item that had always confused Seri, a small piece of luggage the size of a prize turkey that was filled entirely with makeup.

"Wind's picking up," Seri said, as a chilly, wet breeze blew her brown locks into her eyes.

Vincent nodded. "Storm's been brewing from the south all day. It's probably raining on Edge."

"We need lodging, or shelter at least. There's that cluster of communes about five miles off the main strip, or at least there was. There might be someplace free to stay there." Seri shrugged. If it wasn't still there it wouldn't be the first time she had slept in a bus station, or curled up in a half-burned out building. It didn't make for a pleasant night, the commune would be much better, but Vincent was scowling.

"I'm not too excited about having to sing kumbaya all night. I know a place, and I happen to be in funds."

Seri eyed him cautiously, knowing she couldn't contribute.

"Travelshare," Vincent said, before she could say anything.

Seri stared at him, then grinned. It was a student phrase, normally invoked by the traveling partner who was broke to sponge off of those who were not, although it could be used the other way around if one were feeling generous. Where Vincent might have picked it up was a mystery, since he appeared to mostly travel alone.

"OK, mister travelshare, lead on."

Vincent led them down the strip, a road running parallel to the beach and lined with hotels and shops. Those doing well still lit up the night with glorious displays, a contrast to those that were dark, dead, and hungry looking.

"Here we are," Vincent said, stopping between two large hotels, one alive, the other darkened. Between them was an older building, dwarfed by its neighbors.

"Don't tell me, this is one of those deals where they owner refused to sell and progress just continued around it?"

"Something like that. This place was here when I was a Turk. Back then all the hotels were like this, smaller. The whole place was smaller. Wilder. Weirder."

Seri smiled, thinking of the drunk stories Vincent had shared in Cid's truck. It seemed Turks were not the rigid, controlled creatures she assumed them to be, at least not all the time. Part of the time they were balls-to-the wall, extreme partying, power-abusing maniacs.

She contemplated this version of Vincent as they approached the entry of the small hotel, the dim lighting casting shadows down the finely curved hollows of his cheeks. He turned towards her, his red eyes two fiery coals in the night. He stopped her progress with a touch of his long-fingered hand onto her cheek, then let his fingertips slide gently down her throat.

"Stay with me tonight," he said softly.

Seri's lips parted as the low, seductive sound of his voice caused a prickling sensation up the back of her neck. She studied his eyes, paying mind to their color. They were red, luminous, and clear, distinctively Vincent. There may have been a tinge of Chaos' gold influence, but this was Vincent, and Vincent's request. Seri tried to speak but was hampered by the fact that she could barely breathe. So instead she leaned forward and captured his mouth in a kiss. His human hand slid around the back of her neck while his other pressured the small of her back towards himself, the sharp, golden tips digging into her skin. Seri felt almost feint as Vincent's tongue slid across her front teeth. Then the ever-present red cloak livened and Chaos' warm wings tightly wrapped them both. As they shifted and moved along Seri's backside from neck to calves she imagined how amazing that was going to feel against her naked skin.

Vincent's lips withdrew with a lingering touch, and then he was smirking at her slightly.

"Pointy," he said, his voice again making the gooseflesh rise again like electricity on her spine.

She ran her own tongue over her eyeteeth, they were small, but definitely pointed. She could also feel the hypersensitivity of her skin and knew it had that slight, blue sheen that had given her away once before to Vincent. Back in the house of Odin he had been alarmed, thought her a possible threat, but now he looked amused as he touched her face and neck with light, curious strokes.

"Inside," Seri breathed, "we should go inside."

Without another word Vincent shuffled them both inside where he requested a single room, bargained over the price, paid cash in advance, scooped up the room key and hurried them down the hallway.

"One-o-four," he said. "Good memories."

Seri lifted an eyebrow at him, wanting to ask, but they were already at the door labeled 104. Vincent inserted the key, a real key not a key card, then opened the door one-handed. They all but fell into the room, Chaos' wings expanding and moving around in an excited way that tangled and tripped them both.

_Easy, I know you're helping me with the twitch problem, but I need you to calm down and stay in the background. All of you._

_**Valentine, this is the first time you've mated since I've been here! We are WAY too deprived to be calm!**_

_If you cause me to make a mess of this it may not happen at all!_

All four demons quieted, although Vincent could feel them, intensely attentive. It jangled even to his steady nerves. Sex alone required a release of control that he naturally found uncomfortable without four drooling demons pestering him. He breathed and reminded himself to _flow_, then pulled Seri into his arms where he could again stroke her face and push back her hair.

"I'm not sure how good my control may be during this," Vincent said. "There may be some… spontaneous transformations."

Seri looked into his face and found it not just sincere but positively serene looking. It was an incongruous expression for him to be wearing given that his comment indicated apprehension, and she felt a rush of affection for the man and his strange condition. Plus her Mariteen heritage appreciated the fine level of calm he was exuding, especially since she too could feel all of his demons, all of them over-excited since the moment they had approached the hotel.

"It's OK," Seri said. "I'll be fine." But even as she said it she felt a flash of worry, especially over the one called Hellmasker. She had only touched his mind briefly, but his nature was plain- he enjoyed hurting, maiming. Killing.

_**Don't you worry a thing, dear. Vincent has a tight leash on him, and I'll help.**_

Vincent blinked several times, and she suspected he was internally communicating something she couldn't hear. Whatever it was he seemed to be satisfied and his relaxation became more genuine, even to the point where he smiled a little. But then he frowned suddenly and leaned away from. He pursed his lips.

"What?" she asked.

"_You_ are not available."

Seri gave him a blank look.

"Blonde? Nice? Nice is nice? Ringing any bells?" Vincent prompted.

"Ah. Yes. I mean no. I called him from Tifa's and ended it."

"May I ask why?" Vincent's words were suspicious, but he came close to her again, slipping one arm behind her back

She paused, breathing slowly. "After… this, all of this, being around people who were willing to do what was needed without questioning or whining or… weaseling out… it reminded me of who I wanted to be. Why I took to fighting in the first place. I don't belong with man who doesn't understand that."

Vincent mulled this over for a moment, hesitating.

"Being around Cloud caused you to remember this?" He finally asked.

Seri gave him an astonished look. "You think of only Cloud when I speak of this type of man?"

"He is the hero of the planet. He's not the one who wavered. 'Weaseled out,' as you put it."

Seri shook her head. "You never wavered. You never backed away; I doubt it's your nature. You opposed the majority opinion, then reversed your course. I might fault you for indecisiveness, or maybe having morals that are out of step with the majority, which is essentially arbitrary..."

"Cloud had problems with neither," Vincent interrupted her.

"Cloud is simpler."

"Cloud is blonde," he said.

Seri smiled at him, a sweet, sly curve that barely tickled the corners of her mouth. She reached up and sunk her fingers into Vincent's long, dark hair so that the strands slid past the webbing on her fingers. "Actually… I prefer this."

Vincent shut his eyes and pulled her tight to himself, tight enough so that she could now feel his hardening state against her abdomen. Her own sex responded, tingling and tightening with an anxious pressure.

"One more thing," Vincent said as Seri lifter her lips to lay small, nibbling kisses along his jaw.

"You talk too much," Seri said, almost laughing at the absurdity of her own statement.

"Just one more necessity, I promise. Safe sex? Birth control?"

Seri pulled up her left sleeve held the forearm up for his inspection. About two inches from the elbow there was the imprint of a disk, a hormone emitting device implanted under the skin that he understood was popular with young women. He ran his fingertips over it, feeling the edges and frowning slightly.

"You disapprove?" Seri asked, not caring much for the tone of his scrutiny.

"No." Vincent shook his head. "No, it's an efficient and reliable method. It's just…"

He touched her face and the intensity of his stare made her suddenly uncomfortable.

"It just makes me feel a little sad," Vincent said. "That we as a species can't be natural."

"Nature is sometimes inconvenient," Seri said.

"So it is. And speaking of inconvenience..." Vincent rolled his tongue inside one cheek. "I have no concern for disease myself since I don't seem to be able to get sick, and I don't believe I could be harboring any... sexual diseases. But I did bring condoms with me."

"Confident, were we?"

"Just prepared. It's part of my _nature._"

At this point Seri had had about enough of talking and leaned in to kiss Vincent. He wrapped her confidently in his arms as their tongues met, slick with wet heat, caressing each other between parted lips.

"I think we can forgo that bit of non-nature," Seri said when the kiss finally broke.

"Works for me." Vincent then grabbed her by the waist with both hands and tossed her onto the bed where she landed with a loud protest from the bedsprings.

She laughed in surprise and in the next instant he was over her, propping himself up with one arm and undoing her jacket zipper and pushing it over her shoulders with the other. She wiggled underneath him, likewise tugging at his clothing while kissing him and complaining.

"De besprer, the bedspread!" she finally managed to say. "People are always having sex on bedspred!"

"We're about to have sex on the bedspread," Vincent reminded her.

"Ugh, yuck, I read they don't wash them!"

Vincent grunted and worked with her to toss the thing to the floor and undo the covers until they were down to the cool, white sheets. He also managed to relieve himself of their boots, weapons, and most of their outerwear, including his shirt (with some grateful help from Chaos to pull the wing material cleanly and quickly through the cutout) before falling onto to bed. Seri lay beside him, noticing just the tiniest of gold threading through his red irises before casting her eyes down to his beautifully sculpted chest. She put her hands on his chest, flat so her palms might feel his skin, then slid her hands straight down his ridged abdomen to his belt buckle.

_**Doesn't waste any time, does she?**_

_Indeed not,_ Vincent agreed, running his hands up under her shirt, pushing it up over her shoulders. It was a well-worn, long sleeve knit shirt of a nondescript gray, and Vincent had been rather enjoying the way the stretched-out neckline had been hanging lazily around her collarbone. But its job was over for the day, and he pulled it over her head, the fabric making more of a mess of her hair than normal. He kissed her lips, tinted with an iridescent blue like the rest of her skin. Their tongues touched and slid past one another, each running over the strange and similar pointed canines. Chaos' wings curled over them both and pressed their naked torsos together.

_Not so tight,_ Vincent admonished, but the wings didn't release.

_I'll send you to the background, _Vincent threatened.

_**You'll start to twitch again**_

Vincent broke the kiss he had been enjoying and smiled; being able to have his skin touched without twitching was so good, so _normal_, that he had gone right to taking it for granted. And he wasn't against being pressed together, skin to glorious skin, but there was a reason for needing some slack. He reminded himself that explaining was sometimes better.

_We can't get our pants off this way_

_**OH. Right. **_

Chaos loosened the wings and Vincent's hands went right the button of Seri's khakis as her hands continued what they had started with his belt. Soon they were working their pants to their ankles, both wiggling and undulating like a butterfly trying to emerge from the cocoon. But neither was trying to escape the warm confines of Chaos' wings. Their touch was even more heavenly than Seri had imagined, the warm and velvet-soft wing stroking along her naked skin

"This feels amazing," Seri whispered. "You ever sleep naked like this?"

Vincent hesitated, then grinned wickedly, showing his teeth, even the sharp ones. "Sometimes."

_**Perv**_

_As if you should talk_

The wings rippled along both of their backs and Seri sighed, putting both her hands along the sides of Vincent's hard and quite sizable erection.

"My," she said softly, giving him a squeeze that caused him to inhale sharply.

He looked at her face and the bluish tint to her skin. Her eyes were still identifiable as brown, but with a shine over them, like a pane of plate glass that catches a glare and partially obscures what's behind. The bluish tint was like that, a light, gauzy overlay of color and everywhere under it was her brown skin. He had been fantasizing about that brown skin, the intertwining of his pale limbs with hers.

"Are you going to be blue the whole time?" Vincent asked.

"I don't know. It comes and goes. Why, do I scare you?"

She bared her pointy teeth at him and he smiled, a smile he literally bit back with his molars grabbing the side of his cheek. She had been hoping for a laugh; she'd yet to hear even a tiny laugh out of him.

"Just curious," he said, dropping his hand and circling one fingertip slowly around her left breast in a spiral up to the nipple. Once there he pinched and rolled the erect nub between the pads of his thumb and forefinger. He dipped his head down, the cocooning wings moving in synch with him now as he put his lips to her other nipple, just as warm and firm. He flicked his tongue over the tip then around the nipple in a circle. And sometimes around both sides at once.

_OK, which one of you has a forked tongue?_

_**Just relax, Valentine. Flow, remember?**_

Vincent was trying to relax, he really was, but the demon pressure inside him was so heavy. Even with his erection pulled away from Seri's hands he was afraid he would pop off right then.

He brought his head up to look at her, a sheen of sweat on his face from his restraining effort.

"I'm sorry…" he said.

"It's OK. I know. I want this, all of this, all of you, all the different ways you are. It's OK."

Vincent nodded. Galian. Galian with his load of animal energy had to go first, and then they could all be a bit more leisurely.

The very thought was enough to bring the transformation on, and suddenly the double bed in the small, quaint room was overwhelmed with blue fur. Seri rolled up on top of the big blue body, frantically thinking she better get on top or risk getting squashed flat. She tried to communicate mentally, asking Galian to lie on his back, or maybe rollover, like a big dog.

And he did. She was folded into his arms on top of what felt like one of those luxurious sheepskin rugs. His fur was clean and soft and stroking every crevice of her naked body. She had always liked animals, but she had never considered what they were about to get busy with. That bit of busy was at the moment poking her in the back as she sat straddled across the beast's stomach. And it was… a little wet.

Galian's jaws made a rapid clicking sound, almost like teeth chattering, followed by a round of small wiggling and what sounded like a low pitched whine. He scratched lightly down the length of both her thighs, his paws long-fingered and dexterous like hands, one tipped with black nails and other tipped with gold metal form Vincent's metallic hand. They were both here, Vincent somewhere under all that fur. The beast whined and wiggled again.

"Ooohhhh," Seri leaned forward and touched her nose to the beast's, and his tongue flicked out and licked her lips, then the great teeth scraped across her cheek, biting ever so slightly. Her breathing accelerated with the terror and thrill of it; his jaws were so enormous that he could have bitten her head clean off, but he nuzzled instead, rubbing his snout against her face and giving another of those low whines.

"OK, ok," she said, and spun herself around on his belly until she faced his enormous organ, the tip now leaning against her chest just below her breasts, dripping in precum.

"Ok," she said again, to herself this time. The head was as big around as an orange, the shaft a good 18" long. She definitely was not getting that in her mouth, and she wasn't about to try and mount it. Although she supposed it was possible, she'd heard stories of the old royalty, queens who used to fuck various herbivores with penises this size, but it probably took some practice, or warm-up stretching, or something. It was after all smaller than a baby, and women squeezed those out of their twats…

Her stunned ruminations were interrupted by a warm, wet swipe from the base of her spine up to her neck. Now she had a whole separate thing to think about. She was still sitting on his stomach – so how long was that tongue? Or maybe he was just really bendy. Then he sat up behind her and that warm fur was against her back, the tongue working with surprising delicacy along her neck. She slid forward until her pubis cradled the base of the impressive appendage, shaped quite like that of a human male, the bald skin a bluish-gray, soft and smooth. She brought her knees forward to wedge the shaft to her crotch and rubbed against the firm heat there. A large, furry hand came forward and pressed the organ to her torso so that the head now nestled between her medium-sized breasts. She thought about those ancient queens, writhing with something this huge inside of them as she humped and rubbed her clit along it and embraced him with her thighs. She spread the precum over the huge mushroom head and covered it with both hands. She could just get both hands around the shaft, enough to squeeze and pull up over the ridge to the head. Then she licked her palms furiously and gave him another stroke. On the third stroke the arms around her tightened and a hair-raising howl went up behind her head as fountain of white exploded in front of her, splattering her face and chest. Seri froze, stunned, and as the organ she had been playing with softened so too the great animal body diminished until Vincent's skin gradually replaced blue fur and she rolled off of him.

Vincent, now himself, looked over at her with an expression of such surprise and dismay that she had to laugh. She flicked her tongue out to a spot of the fluid on her lip; it was musky and salty, apparently semen was semen even in the demon world. Vincent grabbed the topsheet and daubed up the mess. Then flopped onto his back beside her.

"Sorry about that," he said, "I've never had the urge to actually _howl_ before. What the desk clerk must think," he said, and then laughed, it was short, barely more than a chuckle, but Seri stared at him, transfixed. He had laughed. And he seemed almost happy.

"I think Galian's good for a nap, now," Vincent said, stretching in a way that was a bit animalistic.

"And you?" Seri propped up on one elbow to watch him.

"Hardly." Vincent rolled over, tangling himself with her. Parts of her were blue but large patches of her skin had reverted to golden brown and he got his wish of sliding his skin past warm, brown skin. Although the blue skin was pretty nice, too. His erection was already flushing out again, surprising himself with how fervently aroused he still was.

"Are you doing OK?" He asked between small, gentle kisses.

"More than OK," Seri breathed. "Although I think Galian's anatomy might always be a little oversized for me. I think _you_ might be a little oversized for me." Seri wiggled until she could get her hands back on said prize, thick and long in her hands. She laid her flat palms lengthwise along the shaft with fingers outstretched; he had to be at least eight inches.

"Oh?" Vincent gave another one of those small chuckles, his forehead touching hers, their noses rubbing side to side past one another. He had heard that one before, but the girl never meant it.

"Don't laugh," she laughed, "I'm serious! I haven't had sex for like… two months."

"And what, blondie was underequipped?"

"Don't be wicked."

"But there's so much wickedness to be had," Vincent purred in her ear, deftly working that new-found bifurcated tongue around the ridges.

"I wanna see," Seri said, and sat up, spilling the top sheet away.

Chaos had opened his wings to expose Vincent, lying on his back. He folded his arms behind his head and stretched out to his full length, his sizable erection hard against his own abdomen.

"Oh… Vincent…" Her eyes raked up and down him greedily. She couldn't pretend she hadn't imagined him like this- naked, lean, and muscular. She ran her fingertips down the length of his hard penis, perfectly straight with two symmetric veins standing out on each side.

Vincent was admiring her as well. She had calmed down to an earthy brown, her whole body toned and trim, with rounded, high-set breasts that gleamed from light perspiration in the glow of the nightstand lamp. A tip of red velvet livened behind her and hugged her rounded backside, sending one tip to brush between the cleft. She gasped in surprise and turned suddenly blue. Vincent smiled at her, a rather more wicked, knowing look than she'd ever seen on his face. She put the tip of her tongue to one of her pointed teeth just to confirm; that she was getting used to the pointies coming and going was maybe the strangest thing about them. She shrugged and set about stroking her hands on every bit of Vincent she desired, his long thighs, his flat, hard abdominal muscles, the thick, black pubic thatch. As she relaxed into her explorations her skin regained its brown glow.

_Do that again,_ Vincent said, wanting to see the bluing trick again but lacking fine control of the wingtips himself.

A piece of sneaky red wing came forward between her thighs and tickled her suddenly. She gasped again as the blue transformation engulfed her.

"Quit that!" she said, giving him a playful shove.

"What are you hitting me for?" Vincent protested.

"Right, Mr. Innocence."

Vincent gave a remarkably good imitation of innocence as more of the red wing wrapped parts of her waist and legs.

_**My wings aren't exactly the best appendage for this. Maybe you should quit with your laziness.**_

"Hmmmm…" Vincent sat up and pulled Seri's hips around, rotating her until he could lay one cheek on her smooth, inner thigh. He stroked the pad of one finger down her blue/then brown/then blue patch of curly muff, until finding that magic little nub to gently rub.

Seri sighed, rose up on one elbow and licked his swollen cock from base to head. She took a moment to play with the slotted opening with her tongue before engulfing the whole thing in her mouth. Vincent closed his eyes, giving into the sensation as the warm, wet suction moved up and down his organ. And he wasn't the only one- his demons were all close enough to the surface to feel it too. He needed to reduce their pressure again, but right now he wanted to hoard this to himself. He stuck his tongue out, and out, and out… until almost four inches of forked tongue snaked from his lips, enough to easily reach her clit and dance circles around it.

_**This is my best appendage for this**_

_I should have known _

Chaos laughed, the others cackled, and then Seri did something with her finger that hijacked everyone's attention, either in excitement of frightened shock.

_**Too much curiosity!**_ Chaos projected, so that she could hear also.

Seri stopped what she was doing, one saliva moistened finger just pushing past Vincent's anal sphincter. Her lips, slightly reddened, opened as she looked at him questioningly.

Vincent retracted the demonic tongue to give her a sly smile. "It's good," he said with a wink.

_**Valentine, what are you thinking!?! What about this can be good?!?**_

_Relax. You'll see._

Seri went back to what she was doing, smiling as she sucked him up and down, one naughty finger slipping farther inside his body until it touched a hardened knot.

_**Oh, oooh…your party ball is towards the back.**_

Vincent didn't answer, and didn't ask because didn't want to know where Chaos was keeping his equivalent anatomy. He just wanted to feel the twin pleasure of a wet, hot mouth and massaging pressure to his prostate. He relaxed so much that he opened himself for transformation, and the eager taker was, surprisingly, Gigas. Seri looked into the crude, distorted face and smiled gently as he came forward to kiss her, bruising her upper lip a bit as his oversized hands petted her, light but clumsy feeling.

"Seri," he breathed into her ear as he wrapped his massive arms around her. Vincent let him have a little free reign, but stayed close to keep the crushing pressure out of the hug.

Seri pushed on his large, wall-like chest until she could swing one leg over him. His torso was wide, like swinging up onto the back of a small chocobo, but gratefully his organ was of acceptable size. She rose up on her knees and placed herself, slick and tight with bloodflow, onto his waiting erection. She slid slowly and steadily downward until she was seated, his big hands completely encircling her smaller shoulders.

"Gotta let me move, OK?" she whispered and the blocky head nodded. "Help me?"

He moved his hands to the sides of her hips and bodily moved her up and down at the rhythm he needed. Seri grinned at getting a ride where she didn't have to work at all. Gigas was already panting, mouthing her name with lips not made for fine talking as he lifted her up and down on his own erection. Before long he was thrusting up into her, hands pressing her hips down hard, then easing off, then harder again as Vincent worked with the demon to modify his force. Gigas was jerking, thrusting, ejaculating and then everything changed. He changed, changed to a smaller form of alabaster white that still wore a mask of inhuman sentiment. Two hands shot out, quick as lightning, and grabbed Seri around the throat. At first her hands went to her throat also, pulling ineffectually at the fingers as she panicked for air.

"Come on, Mariteen Baby," A voice smooth and sultry and ultimately hair-raising came from somewhere behind the mask. "You'll like it."

Seri changed her tactic and clasped both her hands around Hellmasker's throat. He laughed, then laughed harder as she tried to tear the mask from his face. It didn't budge and Seri realized it was part of him, it was the only face he had. A demon made real from somebody's nightmare, an incomplete being.

_**Sorry, we got him **__**now **_she heard Chaos inside her head as the pressure released from her throat. She wished she could hear Vincent too, or somehow see him under the white body, which at the moment was doing something extremely interesting under her. He wasn't thrusting, he was grinding his hips to hers, hands now better behaved and only digging into her thighs. A nodule of flesh, right in front of his demon penis, was moving and pressuring right on her clit. She gasped and tried to move up and away from this thing that felt too good to be real, but the strong hands, whether under Vincent's or the demon's control, held her in place until the orgasm shot through her body, jerking her even as began his thrusting from below. Then something hot and electric released into her and she felt a wave of light-headed euphoria as she collapsed down into Vincent's arms.

**. ИEXT TIME Д LITTLE LESS OXYGEИ; IT'LL BE BETTEЯ, I PЯOMISE. **

Seri's eyes widened and Vincent frowned and shook his head once, unwilling to let Hellmasker play his little erotic asphyxiation game.

"How are you doing?" Vincent asked, stroking the hair away from her face.

Seri didn't try to answer with her head spinning the way it was. Instead she laid flat onto Vincent, nuzzled into his warm neck and breathed the smell of road dust and Tifa's shampoo in his hair. She rolled off of him and looked into his unusual red eyes, serene, concerned, and intense.

_I need one more, _Vincent whispered inside himself, to the one demon still with him, _But I don't think I can do two. I'm not sure I can do manage the one._

_**I wanted to go last.**_

_So did I._

_**This takes the most out of you. Keep me with you. Keep me close.**_

_Helping?_

_**I want what you want. I need what you need.**_

Vincent felt a surge of warm energy spread out into his limbs and an almost foreign urge to dominate. He rolled Seri over until he had her trapped under him. He began to lick, kiss, and nibble along her outstretched neck and under her jawbone, waiting for her to recover, feeling himself shift in and out with Chaos, sharing his energy, sharing the space.

Seri began to stretch and move, and when her thighs inched apart he knew she was ready. He settled between her legs and she reached down to grasp his once again filled erection, guiding him inside her.

_**I've been observing your anatomy, Valentine.**_

_Great_

_**You have a feature**_

_...?_

_**An asymmetrical ridge on the top. Is it for pleasuring the female?**_

_Possibly. It's not fully understood._

_**She has no sweetspot, inside?**_

_Possibly._

…_**?**_

_She may have a… sweet spot on the forward wall of her canal._

_**May have?**_

_Human females are highly variable._

_**ALL our females have sweetspot on the rear wall. She may as well, in her blue state. I have a feature for this. Keep us together and we'll give her both..**_

Vincent agreed, feeling his fatigued state bolstered by the demon's energy. He thrust slowly, feeling the wet squeeze of Seri's body, feeling himself dither in and out with not only Chaos' consciousness but parts of his anatomy as well. Seri groaned and sunk her hands into his hair, her eyes looking desperately into his.

"Blue up for me," Vincent whispered, his voice rich and persuasive, his eyes a swirl of red and gold.

Seri was about to protest that she couldn't blue on command, but the feeling of Vincent's hot breath in her ear and the hunger in his voice did the trick for her. Vincent was likewise changing, blending between himself and Chaos, his skin changing from his regular pale to a variety of reds that increased in intensity approaching his nether regions. Seri gasped as an unfamiliar sensation rippled inside her. A good sensation. A great sensation. Her eyes widened and Vincent grinned at her in a way she recognized as distinctly Chaotic. She lifted her hips into the thrusts, stretched to accommodate Vincent's large girth and reveled in the feeling of that tight fit pushing in and up, then panting almost to the point of hiccupping from the new sensation on the opposite side.

_**She's got it **_Chaos' mental voice was as ragged as their breath, and Vincent's mind was too overloaded with bodily sensations to answer. He concentrated on his thrusts, holding himself barely in check as Seri's skin rose to a feverish heat . Then, suddenly, she screamed and arched her back tight to him, grabbing onto his hair and Chaos' alive headpiece. Vincent, steadied by locked elbows with shoulders and arms so tensed that the muscles corded into thick lumps under his skin, continued to thrust until it felt like his whole being exploded with a single, hoarse yell.

For a moment they both were still, panting as Vincent's hair dripped down around her face.

"Ugh," Vincent pulled his softening member from Seri's body, his abdomen shaking with fatigue as he fell down heavily beside her.

"I think I broke myself," he admitted.

She laughed a little and scooted in to him. Chaos' wings enclosed her, but they were clumsy, sleepy. She could feel all four of Vincent's demons; they were all asleep or dozing. Vincent himself looked about ready to drop off, his lids half closing over dull eyes. She kissed the corner of his mouth and he lazily tried to kiss back.

"Sleepy?" she asked, her eyes amused.

"Mmrgm. Not like you girls; you get up and run races after sex."

"I think you're going to need food. Why don't you nap while I go find some take-out?"

Vincent thought that sounded like a fantastic idea. Remembering Seri had no money he rolled over and fished for his pants that held his wallet. As he reached, a disturbing image came into his mind, an image of Seri, out of the dark street, a man attacking her…

He shook the image from his mind. It was ridiculous; Costa del Sol was hardly dangerous, and besides, Seri could take care of herself. But the worry returned, this time the idea of two rough looking men, overpowering Seri and dragging her off into in alley…

_**What's wrong? **_Chaos sounded groggy.

_Nothing. Go back to sleep._

Vincent grabbed his pants off the floor and sat on the bed, trying to get his wild imagination under control. He supposed he was responding to fear of his last great failure- that he wouldn't be able to protect a woman who he maybe was falling in love with. That something might happen to her.

Vincent slid behind Seri's back side, her brown torso leaning down as she hunted for her socks and underwear on the floor. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her up, tight to his chest to where he could nuzzle the side of her neck. He felt the warmth from her back and decided he could just work on his worry-neurosis later.

"I'll come with you," he said.


End file.
